Waking up with a terrible thirst and reaching for the bottle of water on the one night you forget to put it there. Pulling on a clean T-shirt to sleep in, and itching all night because you used the wrong detergent. Choosing PM instead of AM and missing your alarm, hence jumping up in a panic that follows you the rest of the day. Developing a slight case of paranoia from sleep deprivation and a lowering of self-esteem because your diet’s not working and you are too lazy to exercise. Overcompensating for your fatigue with caffeine, thereby instigating an apparent mania that you know, inevitably, will crash you to a record low. Reverting to a stubborn, disobedient child in your mind when it comes to taking care of yourself because you are homesick and depressed. Staring at a blank white screen because you can’t accept that you are barren of words and your body and mind is in revolt against your dream.
What do all these sentences have in common besides being fragments? They are soap scum in the tub of my self-pity. One of these days I need to find a Sweeper that will do his damn job.